Dallas and Mōkō stood shoulder-to-shoulder, their words weaving together in an eerie harmony, almost like a chant as they continued explaining.
"Temperature level and resistance level," they said in sync, "are just as simple as fire level."
Maxi let out a long sigh, already bracing himself for a storm of chaos and contradiction.
Dallas chuckled. "Let's start with temperature level."
"Temperature level," Mōkō echoed, "is basically the actual heat your fire gives off. It usually matches the fire level's name. So if you find a 'campfire' in a forest, its temperature level is what you'd expect for a campfire. Same with stove fire, furnace fire, or even volcano fire."
Dallas nodded. "This rule holds for every level... except the sun section. That part's an exception."
"Big exception," Mōkō said with a grin.
Maxi blinked. "The Sun section is when the sun names appear right?"
Dallas ignored the question for now. "Now here's where temperature limit comes in. It's how far you can push the heat of your fire before it stops being one type and becomes another."
"You can increase a fire's temperature by two levels upward," Mōkō continued, "or lower it three levels down it depend on the fire and the fire level. But any more than that certain amount, and the fire has to completely shift into a new fire level. So, for instance, if you have a candle flame and push it hotter, it might turn into a campfire, then a stove fire but try to push it hotter than that, and it stops being a candle flame at all."
Maxi scratched his head. "How do you even know when a fire level changes?"
"If you're a fire wielder," Dallas said, "you just feel it. Instinct. It's like breathing you know when it changes. If it's on an object though, it's harder to notice unless you're really experienced."
"The sun section usually has visual cues," Mōkō added. "Most fire changes color when shifting through sun-level fires, but even that depends on its source and origin. Some fire doesn't follow those rules."
Maxi's head began to hurt. "Okay... so... the source of the fire decides how far it can be pushed?"
"Exactly," they both answered.
Dallas smirked. "Now, fire resistance."
"Fire resistance is just what it sounds like," Mōkō said. "It's how resistant your fire is to other things like water, pressure, magic, cold, or even time."
"And you gain resistance," Dallas added, "by forcing your fire to face what it's weak to, over and over, with the intention of overcoming it."
Mōkō stepped forward. "If your fire keeps hitting water, and you want it to endure that, eventually it'll adapt depending on your willpower and the fire level."
"But," Dallas grinned, "this also works in reverse."
Maxi looked up, confused. "Reverse?"
"Yeah," Mōkō said. "Let's say your at fire level grassy sun and usally its uniquenessis for plants to growfaster within its presence or heat so the heat is perventing it uniqueness to grow plants. You can intentionally expose it own warmth while willing it to not resist it. That way, you let your fire express its unusual traits more easily."
"It's usually warmth that suppresses a fire's unique features," Dallas said. "So when you rise through the fire levels, managing resistance becomes key."
Maxi stood frozen in thought. A world of new information buzzed in his brain like wildfire. Fire levels, temperature levels, resistance manipulation... it was far more complex than anything he'd learned before.
"And that," they both declared proudly, "is all you need to know about fire... in its entirety."
Maxi's shoulders sagged. His mind swirled, not just from the overwhelming information, but from something else something he hadn't noticed yet.
His eyes flickered with a faint green glint.
Just for a moment.
But no one saw.
And the lesson continued.
Dallas clapped his hands once. "Alright, we were going to explain the five basic fire levels..."
"—but we kinda already did that," Mōkō interrupted, finishing the thought.
The two looked at each other, then shrugged with matching grins.
"Our bad," Dallas said. "We get carried away when it comes to fire."
"Like, really carried away," Mōkō added with a smirk.
Dallas cleared his throat and motioned forward. "Anyway, that just leaves us with three elemental fire types, and one dimensional fire."
"First up, ice fire. Pretty self-explanatory—it freezes things."
Maxi nodded slowly. That one was easy enough.
"Next, earth fire," Dallas continued. "If it touches skin, it'll start turning it into earth—stone, dirt, mud, depending on how long it stays. Stay exposed too long and you'll end up a statue. Or worse—dust."
"But when it touches actual earth?" Mōkō grinned. "It either creates more earth or causes an explosion. Depends on the source."
"Always depends on the source," Dallas muttered.
"Then there's electric fire," Mōkō said, a spark dancing on his fingertip. "Again, self-explanatory."
"This," Dallas said, "is the main takeaway with fire. Most of it is self-explanatory… if you have the right knowledge. It's simple—until you hit the sun section."
Maxi perked up. That again.
"See," Dallas went on, "the sun section? That's where it gets complicated. You can't just know it. You have to understand the sun gods themselves. Their essence. Their history. Their… divinity."
"But wait," Mōkō tilted his head, "we didn't explain that part yet."
"Yeah," Dallas agreed. "So... never mind."
Maxi sighed. "Okay, so what's the last one?"
Mōkō lifted a finger. "Dimensional fire also called spirit world fire. Burns things that aren't even alive. It scorches souls, spirits, echoes. You don't need to know more right now. Trust us."
Maxi took a long breath, absorbing everything like a sponge stretched too thin. He closed his eyes, calmed himself, and asked quietly
"Why is the sun section so special? Besides the fact it represents gods?"